She went with Betsy to the stable, where the old woman brought out and saddled a fine bay horse on which she mounted Molly. Then she hobbled to a gate which she threw open, saying kindly: “Dar’s your road straight to Ferndale. Good-night, Miss Willie Whisk. Gib my ’spects to ole Miss Barry, and my lub to Ginny Ann and old Unc’ Abe, her husband, and to Nancy Jane, and all de res’, and tell ’em all to come ober.” “I will, Aunt Betsy. Good-night to you,” Molly called back cheerily, as the bay horse pranced down the road in the deepening twilight and starlight. CHAPTER V. “How easy it is to ride horseback! This is perfectly delicious!” cried Molly, exultantly, as she gripped the reins in her little white hands, and gave herself up to the enjoyment of her novel adventure. A feeling of buoyant delight came to her as she felt herself borne easily and swiftly along on the back of the gently pacing and splendid animal. “Oh, I did not know what I missed in never learning to ride! I shall get Aunt Thalia to let me have a horse to go out every day now until Louise sends for me,” she resolved, gayly. Alas! she felicitated herself too soon. They had not made half the distance to Ferndale, when at a sudden turn of the road some distance ahead, Molly saw a tall, manly figure coming toward her with the inevitable fiery tip of a cigar gleaming through the semi-darkness. At sight of this pedestrian the bay horse, which had been pacing easily and beautifully, uttered a loud whinny of delight, and changed his easy gait for a sudden gallop that took Molly by surprise, and, losing her balance in the saddle, the reins slipped from her hands. Another moment and our luckless heroine went flying over the head of her noble steed and landed ignobly on her face in the dust of the road. The bay horse stopped perfectly still with wonderful equine intelligence and the pedestrian dropped his cigar and rushed to the rescue. As he came upon the scene the animal again uttered a whinny of delight and poked his cold nose into the new-comer’s hand. “What, Hero, old fellow, glad to see me back?” the gentleman said, with a hasty caress on the graceful head. Then he stooped over the heap of huddled-up humanity in the road. “What mischief have you done in your haste to bid me welcome?” he continued, lifting Molly’s dark head out of the dust. A moment’s examination assured him that the fall had either stunned or killed her outright. “This is dreadful; and whom can it be, anyhow, riding my mother’s favorite bay?” While he spoke he was carrying her across the road to a little spring bubbling between the rocks and ferns. He laid her down then on the grass and bathed her face and hands with water.